


None Evade This Crown

by somedayisours



Series: In the Dark Waiting for Death [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Akatsuki Uchiha Shisui, Alcohol, All so Danzō is here so..., Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anger, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Child Murder, Dating, Drug Use, Eye Trauma, Gen, Genocide, Is it victim blaming if it's a group of people and they were planning murder, Isolation, Itachi may be dead but Shisui thinks about him often, Lesbian Character, Organ Theft, Organ Transplantation, POV Uchiha Shisui, Role Reversal, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, The organ is a eye, They're Uchiha, Uchiha Massacre, Uchiha Shisui Lives, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unreliable Narrator, Victim Blaming, what do you expect?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-01-01 10:38:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18334016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somedayisours/pseuds/somedayisours
Summary: Shisui massacres the Uchiha clan, it is a dark day.





	1. And Boundless Sky

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the poem _One Dignity Delays For All_ by Emily Dickinson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from _Dying Beast_ by Langston Hughes.

"There's no sign of a struggle," the coroner concludes, "His face is almost completely crushed and he was pierced through the shoulder with a katana but neither of those killed him. He would have been in a lot of pain."

The following silence is a scream that only Shisui can hear. There are no eyes, he knows there are no eyes because the matching set is sealed on the back of his hitai-ate.

Fugaku nods, leaning forward to lay his large hand on what remains of Itachi's forehead. An unsteady sigh slides past his lips and all Shisui can feel now is rage. What right does he have to mourn this boy he never bothered to know? Itachi is dead because his father got greedy because the Uchiha clan as a whole got greedy. Because Danzō thought he had the right—

"Shisui."

"Sir?"

"Mikoto will want to see..." Fugaku's voice fades for a moment of choked silence. "She will want to see Itachi with her own eyes."

Shisui does not know what to say to that, maybe there is nothing to say. He folds the anger away like all shinobi are trained to do, the usual smile slipping onto his face no matter how out of place it is.

"As you say, sir." He nods his head once to the coroner before leaving the two men alone with Itachi. He waits against the wall outside the door, chakra suppressed until it feels like nothing more than a mouse.

"No defensive injuries? No traces of a sedative in his blood or the remains of a genjutsu?"

"There was a genjutsu administered before his death." The medical examiner confirms, "Enough chakra that—"

"Administered?" Fugaku interrupts with an emotion Shisui has never heard him express before.

"Yes, the lingering chakra is his own. He cast a genjutsu on himself."

"Why... What did he cast? Was he aiming for himself?"

"With the passage of time what chakra still clings to the body slowly dissipates. I can gauge who's chakra it is and the intention, not what it actually executed in practice, sir."

"Fine, what—"

But Shisui already knows what the intention was behind Itachi casting that genjutsu on himself, he doesn't need to hear the examiner's speculation.

The sunset had been beautiful the night Itachi died, just as the day following seems to follow it's example. He isn't bitter about it, Itachi would want a nice day with the sun out and a cool breeze opposed to something grey and dreary.

He doesn't find Mikoto at the first or second places he checks, but he spots her on his way to the third. She's sat alone on a bench in front of a children's playground, her back to him as he approaches.

"Shisui," Mikoto acknowledges without taking her eyes off of Sasuke. Itachi's younger brother stands atop a civilian playground commanding the collection of children of equal age to him gathered below.

"Mikoto. Fugaku sent me."

"Itachi..."

"Yes. They were discussing his... Injuries before I departed."

She shifts along the bench then, patting the newly open seat on her right with the palm of her hand, "Sit."

Shisui doesn't bother trying to argue with her, "I am sorry for your loss, Mikoto. He was a good shinobi."

His own words are sour on his tongue and only seem to add fuel to the rage swirling dangerously in his gut. Itachi was far more than simply a good shinobi.

"He was a child," Mikoto dismisses through clenched teeth, "He deserved far better than the life I let Fugaku give him."

He knows he shouldn't respond to such a statement, his grandfather is probably rolling in his grave over the fact Shisui is even entertaining such disrespectful thoughts. "You're right, of course."

Mikoto lets out a surprised bark of choked laughter, the hand that didn't automatically go to her mouth smacks into his shoulder to no real force behind it.

"Shisui!" Sasuke screams, throwing himself down from the playground with one leap. He doesn't quite stick the landing, tumbling into a role to disperse the excess energy and then he's right back up on his feet running towards them.

"You'll watch him, won't you? Have him home before four at least."

"Yes, ma'am."

Mikoto greets her younger child with a hug, scooping the boy off the ground before he can object. And does he object.

"Mooom," He whines, struggling against her grip. Abruptly realizing he's going to get nowhere with her he changes tactics, "Shisui, help!"

"No can do, kid." Shisui responds with false sincerity, "Your mom is too scary for me to disobey."

"Please! Please! Please! Pleeease!"

Relenting to her son's pleas Mikoto releases the brat with a fond—if not watery—smile. "I have to go meet with your father, Sasuke, Shisui's gonna look after you until dinner. Understand? You be good for him."

"Uh huh," The boy nods dutifully but there's a frown on his face.

"Promise me." She requests with firm hands on his shoulders.

"I promise."

Mikoto drops a kiss on the top of her son's head, gives Shisui a nod of encouragement, and shunshins away with a swirl of dirt that sprays Shisui and Sasuke both. There's a beat of silence where neither of them speak, Sasuke looking off to the side with a pout that accentuates the physical differences between him and Itachi. 

Itachi never actually pouted, he mopped around when he didn't get what he wanted but there was always a downturn to his lips that prevented him from ever actually pouting. Itachi was always more disciplined than Sasuke is, acting less like a child than Shisui did when they first met, even with that four year age gap.

"What's wrong, kid."

The kid looks at his feet, glares down at a single yellow tuft of grass sprouting up to his right before finally speaking. "Did Itachi leave on another mission?"

Shisui blinks owlishly, that honestly wasn't what he was expecting. "What?"

There are tears in the kid's eyes now, big fat things leaving clean trails down his dirty face.

"H-h-h-he p-p-promised," The boy manages between tearful hiccups, "H-h-he w-w-w-would—"

"Oh, Sasuke."

It isn't hard to scoop the crying boy into his arms and just hold him as his tinny body shakes, the progressively expanding wet spot on his shoulder almost enough to crack the smiling mask right in two. Because the kid doesn't yet know that his brother will never be able to fulfill any of those promises. 

When the kid's gasps settle into a more even pace Shisui makes an offer: "I got an idea, Sasuke."

"Yeah?" The boy asks after wiping his nose on Shisui's shoulder.

"I figured we can go get some dango."

If Shisui didn't know that the kid hated sweets he would have been disappointed with the frown Sasuke gives him as an answer to such a suggestion.

"I don't like dango."

Shisui smiles even wider than usual in response, "But you know who does, don't you?"

The kid's eyes light up with realization, "Itachi!" He exclaims with hands thrown up in the air and everything.

"Got it in one," He praises, "We'll just have to tell him what he missed out on when he gets back."

Sasuke's smile doesn't erase the red around his eyes or the tears stains on his chubby cheeks, but it's better than the sobbing mess he was earlier. Shisui should probably feel worse about lying to the kid about his brother than he does, but it'll be better for Mikoto to break the news to her son rather than the lies Shisui would offer. 

Sasuke only manages to force himself through a single skewer, turning his attention to folding his napkin into miniature throwing stars and the like for the rest of their time in the cafe. Shisui doesn't like dango much either but he's never been one to waste money so he downs the last two without a complaint or a sour look. 

He can hear Anko two tables to their right begin to argue with Aoba over the effectiveness of mesh clothing when that's the only thing you're wearing. Shisui takes it for the sign that it is, they should probably be heading back towards the compound anyways with only fifteen minutes left until four. 

He gives Sasuke a ride on his back like Itachi used to near constantly, it does speed things up when simply walking with the kid. Kazuya is stationed at the compound gates, doing a decent impression of a Nara by standing there with his eyes closed like that. Shisui ruins it with a genuine smile and slapping the wooden role-gate hard enough to leave his palm stinging. Sasuke giggles at Kazuya's reaction. 

Shisui keeps up the smile the whole walk through the compound. Past the Military Police still in uniform, the other Uchiha children Sasuke's age chasing a tabby cat, the academy students clustered together practicing their ninjutsu, and the retired couple that runs the weapons shop. The clan head's home can't come quick enough, and even then he doesn't get a break because it's Fugaku who answers the door when he knocks.

"Shisui."

"Sir."

"Dad!" Sasuke crows right next to Shisui's ear, "Shisui took me for—"

"Quiet, Sasuke." Fugaku chastises, "You embarrass not only yourself but the fam—"

"Fugaku," Mikoto's voice comes from inside the home, cutting the man off before Shisui can do so from between his gritted teeth.

Sasuke slips from Shisui's back without a peep, eye's downcast in shame.

"Shisui," Fugaku acknowledges with a nod as his son walks passed him without a goodbye.

"Sir."

He smiles respectfully in spite of the rage swirling behind his mask, waiting until the door's slammed shut before taking his leave with his signature shunshin. 

His apartment is nowhere near as extravagant as that of the clan head's house but he has no desire for such luxuries. He doesn't deserve them even if he did. 

In his empty apartment, all he has are his own thoughts to dwell on. Because all he can think about in the dark emptiness of his home is how much he hates them. How much he hates himself. 

Maybe they're getting what they deserve. If they're selfish enough to plan a coup all due to their pride over some perceived slight maybe the Uchiha do deserve to be slaughtered like cattle. But he hates the Hokage as well, his mismanagement and inaction brought all of them down this contrived path, to begin with. Danzō's lust for power and believed superiority doomed more people than Shisui will ever be able to name. He hates Itachi for being a martyr to a cause that no one but a handful of people will know of. He hates himself most of all, hates his weakness, hates his self-pity.

It's like he's nothing more to him than the darkened rage, like everything he touches turns to ash. He's a pit—

His fingers dig dangerously into the gaping hole where his right eye was less than twenty-four hours ago and it works. The gauze is wet with blood and whatever else the wound must be spitting out but his mind is clear.

It's been something like eighteen hours since he stuffed the empty socket full of gauze and taped it shut, sealing it all up with an elaborate genjutsu. It needs to be cleaned, or at least the gauze changed out. 

His bathroom is just as much of a mess as he had left it earlier, wads of unused gauze are stacked next to the bar of caramel coloured handsoap on the sink's edge, the abandoned first aid kit left overflowing in the sink itself with the one carefully organized innards are left in disarray. 

Dropping the genjutsu is a relief on his steadily draining chakra, so much so that he takes a moment to slump against the sink. He fumbles with the edge of one of the strips of tape to get a good handle, the goal being to rip the whole thing off in one go instead of working in vexing sections. 

There are angry red strips dotted with bits of still tacky glue remaining on his skin from where the tape had clung, but the gauze comes out all as one red lump with the tape, leaving only a bloody gaping hole where his eye had once been. He throws the useless hunk of blood and cotton into his toilet without a second look, lifting the closer leg to flush the toilet with his foot while pulling at the exposed edges of his wound. 

He leans away from the mirror with a hiss. Something needs to be done but he doesn't want to treat the throbbing wound, doesn't want to replace his eye with one of Itachi's. 

Cursing Itachi, himself, Danzō, and whatever gods there may be out there, he cracks the medicine cabinet over the sink open to scour for anything useful. The shelves are full of things like an extra bar of soap, a tube of toothpaste, a stack of cotton pads and his toothbrush. But in a plastic sandwich bag on the top shelf is a collection of pills smaller around than his pinky. 

He needs something to drink.


	2. Forgotten His Last Beheading

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from the poem _I have brought the sacrificial goat_ by Joy Goswami.

Shisui wakes to his pillow stiff with blood, his eye is still leaking when he pulls it free from the crusted cover. There's enough Percocet and gin running through his veins to numb any pain he might be feeling.

His bathroom is more of a mess than it was the night before. The mirror above the sink is shattered, the bits of glass mixed in with the open medkit he'd left in the sink, he'd tossed his hitai-ate down behind the toilet at some point, ripped the curtain off its hooks, and smashed something in the tub, leaving it moist and glittering with shards of broken glass.

He'll have to use the ANBU communal showers if he wants to smell like something other than stale sweat and gin for the rest of the day at least. The real problem is his eye, he's sure he never got around to cleaning out the hole last night and he really doesn't want to risk an infection any more than he already is. And cleaning it in ANBU headquarters isn't really an option.

Rummaging through the first aid kit Shisui's able to pick out the handful of sealed packages that can still be used. He tosses what useless pieces remains into the tub with the rest of the mess to clear a work station for himself. He sweeps aside what glass he can with an old face cloth, setting the individual packages of disinfecting wipes to the side with a stack of packaged portable gauze. There's a pair of tweezers tucked on the second shelf next to his toothbrush and a cheap plastic bottle of eyedrops.

He empties the eyedrop solution down the drain, filling the ampoule with tap water before twisting the cap back into place. The thicker of the two tweezers are rinsed and disinfected before he sets it aside in preparation.

With a long sigh and a shake of his head in an attempt to psych himself up, Shisui tilts his head up to stare at the yellow watermarked ceiling. Spraying the empty eye socket with the water from the eyedropper hurts less than he expected, so he flushes the wound three times that way. Refilling the ampoule in between each session.

When things seem to have softened up a reasonable amount he reaches for the clean tweezers. What remains of the mirror does little to help him identify anything in the mess of black blood. The activation of his sharingan in his remaining eye helps with that.

He plucks at the edge of tissue so dark with blood it's nearly back. He realizes he must have been wrong about his assumption the night before that all the gauze came out with the tape when the tissue reveals itself to be square in shape when detaches.

He certainly feels that just as the subtle shake of his hand grows increasing annoying for his sharingan to track around. He flushes the wound once more instead of picking at the irritated flesh before reaching for the packaged gauze.

He rips open the paper with his teeth, the fresh square of gauze pinched between his bloody fingers as he holds it onto the wound while working on the second package. He gets three stacked atop together before he realizes he'd forgotten to dig out a roll of medical tape with everything else beforehand.  
"Fuck," He curses under his breath, digging through his nightstand and then his weapons pouch in search of his muscle tape.

He finds the salmon coloured role of muscle tape on the kitchen counter next to the half-finished green loaf of what was once bread. He makes it into ANBU headquarters two hours before the sun will peak over the horizon with two strips of pink tape holding the gauze in place under a heavyhanded sharingan implemented genjutsu. He has to take special care in the showers not to get any of his hard work wet.

"Can I borrow a toothbrush?"

Tenzō gives him a suspicious look out of the corner of his eye but relents all the same and hands his damp toothbrush over.

"Need some toothpaste as well?" Tenzō offers with a wry glance.

"Yeah, thanks."

An awkward silence descends over them as Tenzō watches Shisui brush his teeth.

"What happened?"

"To my toothbrush?" Shisui asks after spitting, "Dropped it in the toilet."

"Yeah? Drop your shower in the toilet as well?"

He snorts at that, carefully with the toothbrush still in his mouth. "Water's shut off."

"Didn't know Uchiha could get their water shut off."

"They can if they don't pay their bills."

"The more you know."

Shisui let out around huffing laugher, handing Tenzō's toothbrush back to him.

"Make all the jokes you want," Shisui replies, "Wait until you—"

"Gar?" Beetle interrupts from the doorway, "Hokage's office. Three minutes. Your team will meet you there."

Shisui raises his hand for a short wave of acknowledgment but she's already swept out the door.

"Good luck," Tenzō offers with a single glance backwards to catch Shisui's eye in the mirror installed over the sinks before disappearing out the door as well.

He has a meeting with the Hokage, apparently, so he dresses in his ANBU uniform alone. Pulling the straps for the pale chest plate tighter than strictly necessary over the dark uniform, strapping on the forearm guards with the same restless force.

"Shouldn't you know how to put on your uniform properly by now?"

Shisui forces himself to relax, clenching his fists to still his shaking hands.

"Discus," Interrupts Hound with a warning edge in his tone.

"Aye Aye, Captain." Discus mocks, turning away from Shisui to dig into his own locker for his civilian clothes.

Shisui makes himself scarce before anyone else can think themselves clever and make a comment.

The Hokage's still in a -meeting- when he arrives. Gerbil and Jaguarundi are already present, the later of the two speaking in a hushed voice to Civet who's obviously stuck on guard duty with Crab. Tuna is late, arriving ten minutes after Shisui but spared the reprimand because the Hokage's still speaking with what has to be a foreign civilian-based off his accent.

Something about plans for a bridge, it's materials, and the whole thing being quick and quiet for fear of reprisal. The Hokage makes the offer of a team of shinobi taking care of the hushed shipment of the materials to Nami no Kuni.

When the man makes his exit and they are beckoned to the Hokage for their assignment it is exactly that, a little last minute but a simple mission that rubs Shisui the wrong way. He wonders home many other Uchiha have experienced this so far, how many Danzo has pressured to be taken off the duty roster. They deserve it for their negligence, Shisui is confident, but the idea of the elder getting what he wants out of the situation makes Shisui's blood boil all the same.

His absent eye throbs with each beat of his rage-filled heart.

The materials meant for the bridge are being sealed by a lone chūnin when they arrive, filled scrolls in a variety of sizes stacked into coded pyramids off to the side of the lot along one of the walls of the warehouse.

Gerbil steps forwards with their half of the mission scroll in hand, "Kadiri?"

The chūnin grunts in response, not looking up from the careful swirls he paints on the unraveled scroll atop a pile of seasoned logs.

"You and your team are early, ANBU-One."

Tuna coughs to cover a chuckle on Shisui's right.

"Are you ill ANBU-Two? I would recommend you to a very capable doctor."

"It's Tuna," She corrects with lingering humor choking her voice.

"You are aware of your allergies? Why purposefully make yourself sick? Foolish."

Kadiri looks up from his work then, a thin sheen of sweat draped over his face, his thin grey hair clumping in greasy strips that hang around his head, and his pupils are blown wide. "Unhealthy."

It's clearly more of a test than just an innocuous statement.

"That's no one's business but my own," Tuna answers with an uncharacteristically serious tone.

"Good, good," Kadiri mutters as he turns back to his work, rolling the completed scroll up and stacking it with the pyramid that must be for lumber. "Rebar—" He instructs, pointing at the black edged scrolls. "Lumber," The green ones he'd just added to. "Concrete mix," The pink ones on the lumber's left side, "I-beam..."

Tuna doesn't bother waiting for instructions as she marches over and starts loading her pack with black edged scrolls while Kadiri continues to ramble. Gerbil stays engaged with the man while signaling to Shisui and Jaguarundi to follow their teammate's lead.

They make it to Nami in record time in spite of Kadiri's continued rambling at the warehouse and Tuna's need to linger behind and engage him.

There's an elderly man hunched over his cane, spine curled up with arthritis waiting for them at the drop-point marked on the map attached to the mission scroll, eyes sharper than any civilian. A mound of cut bush taller than the man himself was piled next to where he stood.

Gerbil nods to Tuna, the only female member on their team jumping down from her branch into the clearing to look the man in the eye.

" _Peaches we devour_ —"

"— _Dusty skin and all_ ," The contact finishes without any prompting needed. "Lay the materials here—" He gestures to the line of trees at the far edge of the clearing "—We will hide it the old way. It will last longer."

There is no need to object to any of it, so they unseal their scrolls and heft the branches filled with leaves over the materials, disguising them from view at first glance. The old man nods once the work is done before speaking up again.

"You should speak with Tsunami, Tazuna's daughter, she lives in the big house in the village to the east. She speaks like a Mizuchi but you can trust her."

He makes his departure then, disappearing into the woods to the west.

Gerbil debates this news then, consider the man's recommendation and the warning that the woman only _sounds_ like a Mizuchi, doubtful as it is.

"Gar and I will speak with this Tsunami woman, Jaguarundi and Tuna you will head back for Konoha. We will catch up."

"But—"

"Not now, Jaguarundi."

The other man grumbles a bit but assents, taking off with Tuna when Gerbil shoos them away.

"I figured Tuna would object," Shisui admits after they've traveled east for the better half of ten minutes.

Gerbil snorts, "Tuna, for all her bluster, has a brain under that mop of hair."

"And Jaguarundi doesn't?"

"No."

The ' _not when it comes to me_ ' goes unspoken.

Their travel was cut short by the arrival of a man in a mask, something familiar about his appearance but Shisui knew he had never encountered the man in person before. The ensuing fight was more of a game of cat and mouse, the fact they were being played with more than obvious from the beginning.

Gerbil's arm slashes through Masked Man like cutting through an illusion, not even a ripple to show the distortion.

"Genjutsu," Captain hisses before he jumps out of range of another one of Masked Man's lazy slashes with his kunai.

Shisui's sharingan argues that there's no genjutsu at all, the man simply can not be struck by any physical attacks. It rings a cord in his mind, a memory he doesn't want to remember.

He shunshins behind the Masked Man, ducking under a kick that would have taken his head clean off his shoulders. Gerbil's leg passes through the Masked Man's chest, emerging from the man's back before retracting when Gerbil takes a hit to the chest that sends him flying backwards.

The rest of the fight plays out much the same, swinging at nothing and jumping from blow made slow enough from them to dodge so the fight can be dragged out. It's tedious and frustrating when Shisui shouldn't feel such, but it's a reprieve from his fate all the same.

Then Gerbil's blade cuts through the Masked Man's dark cloak and bitting into the flesh of his arm beneath instead of passing through like he had all the other times. His tanto continues it's upward's swing towards the man's face, Shisui's spinning eye meeting the man's own behind the mask and he knows.

The mask goes flying off of Madara's face from Shisui's own attack, Gerbil's tanto passing harmlessly through the other man's now exposed jaw.

"Gar—" Gerbil starts breaking the heavy shocked silence that shouldn't have descended over their fight until at least one of them was dead.

"So rude," the Madara whines in what can't be his real voice, swiping at the stream of blood dripping from his nose. "I thought we were friends, Shisui."

Madara could have passed for anyone if it weren't for the disfiguring scars taking up the majority of his face, he could never be invisible no matter what he wished. And yet he is no one. For being untouchable, for playing around with a pair of high leveled ANBU like a child with their favourite toys, for knowing who lay behind Gar's pale porcelain mask, he's about as known to them as a born and bred Kumo civilian.

(Except even that's a lie, Shisui knows because Itachi told him.)

"No more fun, I guess."

Gerbil's choking on his own blood before either of them can react to the Madara's words, a newly sprouted tree punching straight through the ANBU Captain's chest.

_Mokuton_ , Shisui realizes with a shade of surprise.

"Really, Shisui, is that how your grandfather expected you to treat your elder?"

If this masked individual were truly Madara his grandfather would have crawled from his very own grave just for a chance at killing the man, disrespect is the least Shisui could do.

"How would I have known?" Shisui defends, tense with his tantō still held at the ready.

"Ah," Masked Man concedes with something like childish mischief in his high pitched voice. "I thought Itachi would have mentioned me!" His voice drops again, "Unless you're lying to me, boy."

He is lying to him, Itachi had spoken to him of a man wearing a mask claiming to be Uchiha Madara.

"Maybe he didn't believe you or care. I'm sure you have an idea of how arrogant an heir can be." Shisui offers with false indifference, "But you've got my attention."

The man, Madara, shifts back into a less hostile position. "Yes." He growls with the deeper voice, his real voice, "I remember."

Further conversation is equally as stiff, plans for the resolution of their clan are not conducive for trust to grow. His demand for the opportunity to take Danzō's head for himself gets croaking laughter from the man, more like a crow imitating such a sound than an actual human. He agrees to such a request, but only with the promise of 'in time, he still has a role to play'. Madara departs with a spike of chakra and a wave of his hand.

Gerbil's still skewered on the tree made just to kill him.

Shisui takes the mask from Gerbil's face with what seems like careless hands and sets the body alight with the standard fire ninjutsu. If he had been a better man Captain wouldn't be dead, he can't even blame Itachi or Danzō or even the Hokage for this.

He spends the trek back to the rest of his team with a swirl of familiar dark thoughts, it should have been him with his eyes empty, his face crushed, and left to rot in the Naka river.

"Where's Captain Gerbil?"

He holds up the mask in response to Jaguarundi's question instead of responding, Shisui doesn't trust himself not to break out into a round of seriously inappropriate giggles at the moment.

Jaguarundi curses and spins on around on his heel so he faces in the opposite direction, his hands coming up to ruffle his hair. The mask hides the tears that must be gathering in his eyes. He turns back around with another forced curse to sound mad instead of sad and stomps back over to Shisui.

"Guess I'm in charge," He says with a falsely light voice.

"What's next, Captain?" He asks with his usual smile behind the mask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, yeah, I'm 'x' number of days late. I took a break when writing this and I've come to regret it. You can probably tell from the drop in quality about halfway through this rushed chapter.  
> Tuna and the elderly contact quote a line taken from Li-Young Lee's poem From Blossoms.  
> " _From laden boughs, from hands,_  
>  from sweet fellowship in the bins,  
> comes nectar at the roadside, succulent  
> peaches we devour, dusty skin and all,  
> comes the familiar dust of summer, dust we eat."


	3. A Ripe Line of Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Itachi: *Dramatic Speech*  
> Shisui: "Fuck you, fuck you, and double fuck you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from the poem _Fuel_ by Naomi Shihab Nye.

He dreams of a crow picking at his eye as he lays immobile with only the river rushing past him for other company. It croaks like Itachi's had done when they were impersonating a normal bird. It twists it's head to the side like it's listening to something Shisui can't hear, hopping along on his chest before coming back to take another go at his eye.

He flinches when the bird's beak strikes true, knocking the crow from his chest at he feels his eye begin to leak, deflating as the intraocular fluid bleeds from the incision like tears. And then Danzō is there, pulling the pulp-y mush from his eye socket and thanking one of them, him or the crow that's landed on the Elder's shoulder, Shisui isn't sure.

He wakes an hour before his watch, cold to the bone. Tuna's returned sometime while he was asleep, sitting on a fallen log smoking away with the pipe in her hand.

"I'll wake Jaguarundi, pack your stuff."

They're back in Konoha before the sun's fully descended below the horizon. Tuna's disappeared with the empty sealing scrolls, presumably to return them to that madman calling himself Kadiri. Of all the things someone could go by.

"If you don't see me, I'm probably dead," Jaguarundi says as a farewell, the attempt at a joke falling flat.

The sun has long since sunk below the horizon by the time Shisui's turned in his mission report. And the bar's packed with shinobi, Kiyoko and Genma sat at a table with one remaining empty seat, presumably waiting for him.

"Not dead?" Genma grunts before taking a large gulp of his drink, "Good."

"Inoko broke up with the poor bastard," Kiyoko faux whispers in greeting, leaning back in her chair just in time to miss the swing of Genma's arm.

"Pest."

"I gotta get another drink, what do you want? Gin?"

"Sounds go—"

"What kind of question is that, woman? He's only ever drunk gin with us."

When Kiyoko gets back with their drinks the two of them start right back up again. Apparently Inoichi's little sister did break Genma's heart and dodged any blowback by taking a longterm mission outside of the village. Smart girl. Kiyoko has another civilian ex-girlfriend under her belt, after being caught in bed with her sister. She plays it off like it's a real tragedy but she's either one of Konoha's worse shinobi, or she gets off on getting caught. Shisui knows it has to be the latter of the two.

What joy he's getting from the distraction his friends are knowingly playing out is ruined when three uniformed Uchiha enter the bar. The three of them come stomping up to Shisui's table, Inabi in front with Akira and Yashiro flanking him on each side.

"Uchiha Shisui," The leader of the trio announces, loud enough to draw the attention of everyone in the bar just in case they hadn't been paying attention. "You're under investigation for the murder of Uchiha Itachi, I recommend requesting ANBU carrying out they're own invest—"

"Fuck the Uchiha," He drawls with a deliberate sweep of his hand, the empty glass of gin crashing against the floor is the only noise in the bar.

He waits along with everyone else for their next move, staring intently into Inabi's eyes with that same confident smile he always makes sure to have in place. They can't see it but he can feel it, the blood running down his cheek and dropping on the table. A single drop of blood, exposed for all to see. He leans forward, resting his left arm on the table in front of him atop the evidence while he dares to swipe at his cheek with his other hand. Once. To the rest of the occupants of the bar, the skin is unmarked and whipping at it any more would be strange.

"You dare—"

Kiyoko shifts forward in her seat, her own drink abandoned with the recent turn of events.

"I more than—"

"Weapons away, everyone. Don't think I don't see that, Kiyoko."

The appearance of their Jōnin Commander isn't much of a surprise with how things had been steadily progressing. Shisui would be more concerned if Nara Shikaku didn't make an appearance, but his mood isn't improved as Fugaku is one step out from behind the other man.

"Akira, Inabi, Yashiro stand down."

"Yes, sir!" The three of them respond in unison, bowing to the head of the Military Police. Not the Jōnin Commander.

"You as well, Shisui. It is in your best interests to comply."

He can see the command behind Fugaku's sour expression, the expectation that he will shut his mouth and do as they expect him to. Just like Itachi had.

He sneers right in the Uchiha Clan Head's smarmy face, bowing his head only to spit at the man's feet. He raises his head in time to watch Akira take a threatening step forward, Inabi holding him back from escalating things further.

"I said," Shisui repeats slowly, "Fuck. The. Uchiha. And fuck you."

The Nara Clan Head speaks up before his contemporaries have the chance, "Uchiha Shisui, you have been removed from the active-duty roster pending investigation. If you continue down this path of... Insubordination you will be taken into custody. And held for a day."

"And what will you charge me with?" He dares to taunt, he has nothing to lose now.

"The murder of Uchiha Itachi," Fugaku says, with such fire-y satisfaction in his eyes. "You were the only clan member absent from the clan meeting besides Itachi. Your whereabouts unaccounted for during the hour of his murder."

Shikaku doesn't show his distaste at being spoken over besides the tired look he gives the side of Fugaku's empty head.

"That's not true," Kiyoko refutes, cutting through the tension with such ease. "You have not interviewed any of us." She spreads her arms wide, gesturing to the rest of the bar's occupants. The ANBU, Jōnin, Chūnin and even Genin that Fugaku sees just as obstacles to his power. "I was unaccounted for that night, for all you know Shisui was with me. You have not investigated." The last sentence aimed at Shikaku just as well as the Uchiha Clan Head and his disobedient subordinates. As if they weren't acting on his orders all the while.

"I wasn't spoken to," The green-haired Chūnin sat at the bar with Tuna pipes up.

"Neither was I," Tuna joins in, a voice subdued in comparison to her usual expressive tone. It seems as if the rest of the bar follows then, even those Shisui doesn't know himself speak up in his defense.

"It is an ongoing investigation—" Fugaku cuts in, trying for damage control before things can escalate any farther. "All parties with information are encouraged to step forward."

Kiyoko snorts is disbelief at that.

"Shisui, you'd be charged for disturbing the peace, not unlawful murder." Shikaku finishes, "That goes for the rest of you as well!"

"You can sleep at my place tonight," Kiyoko offers once Shikaku and the Uchiha have vacated the premises.

"I better not catch you in bed with one of my cousins come morning."

He doesn't go back to his apartment once those eight days before Madara comes knocking with the intention of them slaughtering the Uchiha together. Itachi and little Sasuke do share something in common it seems, the fact they were meant for tragedy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now I've left you half-cocked, have fun with blue balls.

**Author's Note:**

> My goal is to post a new chapter at least once a month with a minimum limit of a thousand words. I'll try to go no more than a year between updates at the very least, not over four years like I'm doing to the people over on Fanfiction.net.


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